


Tucking Him In

by EmmaKeladry



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Drunk Bashir, Friendship, Garak being a friend, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, POV Elim Garak, Post-Episode: s03e13 Life Support, Pre-Relationship, Vulnerability
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-09-22
Packaged: 2021-03-07 19:27:32
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,482
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26602948
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/EmmaKeladry/pseuds/EmmaKeladry
Summary: Garak finds Doctor Bashir in poor condition after the death of Vedek Bareil and tends to him, staying by his side.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 10
Kudos: 77





	Tucking Him In

**Author's Note:**

> My first DS9 fic, so please forgive any canon mistakes! I'm on my first watch of the series and haven't finished season 3 yet, but this moment wouldn't live me until I wrote it.
> 
> A birthday fic gift for @ThriftyTrekkie! Hope you like it!

Elim Garak slid closed the door to his tailor shop and engaged the security lock. Another successful day of hemming long dresses and working on a new suit for a birthday gift. He should’ve called it a day as the human phrase was that Doctor Bashir liked to use, much earlier but he wanted to finish so his client could pick up their garment tomorrow. Skipping dinner hadn’t been his best decision either. Garak pondered what he wanted to replicate. He did have some Delavian chocolate, but he suspected that it might have a new home. The news he’d received about his dear Doctor. It hadn’t been a favorable day. Garak turned to see Odo moving down the Promenade, later than he normally did.

“Evening Constable.”

“Garak, you’re closing late.” Odo’s expression was tight.

“Ah, I had work to complete. There are some customers that don’t like to wait.”

The sound of glass breaking reached them, along with Quark’s voice, loud and almost agitated. “Doctor!”

They both headed toward the sound, stepping into Quark’s Bar. Garak frowned at the sight. The lanky human doctor, stood at a round table, leaning forward on his palms as if he couldn’t stand up straight without the support. His cheeks were flushed, and his hair tussled. Bashir lifted one hand to point at Quark and Garak noticed the tremble in his hand, his normally steady surgical hands. He wasn’t a doctor, but he knew that the doctor wasn’t right.

Bashir visibly swallowed. “Quark, I’m not going to talk about it with you.”

“Doctor, you can say anything to your bartender. Or so I’m told.”

Garak sighed internally. Clearly, the Ferengi didn’t realize that Doctor Bashir was past the point of talking this out and didn’t enjoy his company.

“I don’t want to talk!” Bashir slammed his hand down on the table, splashing some of the liquid from his glass and causing Quark to take a step back. “I just want to drink!”

“Is there a problem here?” Odo asked, stepping into Dr. Bashir’s field of vision.

“Oh geez! No. There’s no problem, Constable. I’m simply having a drink at the bar. Or I was!”

“Doctor, it might be best for you to call it a night and get some rest. It was a difficult day for –”

“Difficult day?” the doctor interrupted. “I could’ve saved him. Vedek Bareil. But no, against my better medical judgement, I did as they asked. I… made him less of himself so she could get what she wanted. She didn’t care for him, just her own success. He was my patient and I didn’t save him.”

No one spoke as Doctor Bashir took a shaky breath. His dear doctor definitely didn’t have a good day. The doctor slumped down into his seat, as if the remaining energy he possessed had simply vanished and he finished his drink in one more swallow. The noise in the bar continued as the remaining patrons returned to their business. As they should. Odo remained in his position, seemingly not sure what do to next. Quark took the silence as an excuse to focus on his other customers and skirt away from the upset man.

Garak moved to stand next to Dr. Bashir. “Doctor, I would like to join you for a drink, if that’s alright with you. But I suggest we might find a quieter place.” His words mirrored the conversation that Bashir had had with him, not long ago.

“I’m not in the mood,” he hissed.

“Doctor Bashir, I can contact Commander Sisko or Lieutenant Dax if you’d –” Odo began.

“No,” Bashir said, interrupting him for the second time. “Fine, Garak. I’ll take you up on your offer.”

“Ah, indeed. Might I suggest we retire to your quarters?”

The doctor nodded. “Fine.”

He placed his hands on the table and slowly stood up. He barely reached his full height before his balance wavered, causing him to almost topple over. Garak placed on hand on the doctor’s elbow and steadied him. Dr. Bashir didn’t say anything, but he let Garak take some of his weight, which said volumes about his current predicament. Garak gave a slight nod to Odo as they exited Quark’s and started toward the human’s personal quarters. Neither of them said anything as they walked. The doctor’s lips were parted, and his hot breath brushed across Garak’s hand. Garak tried to ignore it. Their pace slowed. The doctor’s steps became uneven and he relied more on Garak to keep him upright.

An expression of pity crossed Garak’s face. “You are not to blame,” he said softly.

“You don’t know that. I suggested the experimental treatment that was responsible for Bareil’s death.”

“You are obligated to offer all types of treatment to your patients, are you not?” Garak asked as they stopped in front of the doors to the doctor’s quarters.

He triggered the door to open with his free hand. “Yes, but I shouldn’t have! That treatment had a high risk of causing organ failure and death. I’m responsible.”

They stepped into the doctor’s quarters. Bashir yanked his elbow free and stumbled toward his sofa, falling onto the soft material. Garak stood for a moment, unsure of what to do next. He gave a soft sigh before taking a seat on the coffee table.

Bashir rolled onto his back, laughing. “I actually begged her to let him go. To free him… from his obligation.”

“Who?” Garak asked, even as he suspected the answer to his query.

The doctor smiled. “Kai Winn. I actually thought, out of the kindness of her heart, she would let him go.” He placed a hand on his chest as he laughed again. “I should’ve known!”

“From what I know of the Bajorans and I say this with sincerity that they are passionate people and unwilling to bend to the will of others if they believe what they do… is right.” Garak gently touched the doctor’s elbow. “You are not to blame.”

A tear ran down the doctor’s nose as he rolled onto his side, biting back a sob. Garak winced empathetically. He moved around the room, seeking out a blanket to cover him and give him something to snuggle. From what he knew of the human, he needed the comfort. Picking up a cream knitted throw, Garak carried it over to Dr. Bashir and gently draped it over his prone form. Several more tears fell, and the doctor closed his eyes.

“It’s my fault that Kira is hurting. She loved him and… by not saving him – I hurt her too.”

“Doctor, I don’t know you that well, but I do know that you wouldn’t intentionally hurt anyone.” Garak adjusted the position of the blanket, fully aware that it might be seen as tucking the doctor in. He doubted he would have the strength to get back up.

“I can’t forgive myself.” Doctor Bashir opened his dark eyes, his eyelashes pressed together with moisture and his expression making him look younger and even more vulnerable.

“Time, Doctor. Give it time.”

Garak stayed by the doctor’s side he drifted between ranting and crying. After a long hour, Doctor Bashir finally went to sleep. His cheeks were still flushed, and he moved uneasily. No doubt, the doctor would be feeling the effects the following day. Garak quietly went into the doctor’s bathroom and grabbed a small cloth. He rung cold water from the material, leaving it damp, and carried it back to the living area. Bashir let out a soft moan as Garak laid the cloth on his forehead. Garak stayed by his side, despite his back beginning to ache. He moved around the room, keeping an eye on the good doctor, just as he had done when Garak suffered from the implant.

In the early hours of the morning, Doctor Bashir woke up sick to his stomach. Garak stayed with him, his hand on the back of the doctor’s neck to console him. When his stomach settled, Garak assisted the human at getting into his bed. Bashir didn’t offer any resistance as Garak removed his shoes and dropped them to the floor. Pulling up the blanket, he thought he glimpsed something brown and fuzzy beneath the fabric, but not enough to recognize it. Garak’s hand brushed Bashir’s shoulder, smoothing the material as his eyes fluttered and he drifted back to sleep. He replicated a glass of water. Garak placed it on the doctor’s nightstand, along with a hypospray of a medication known for assisting with the treatment of hangovers. There would be another time to discuss the events of the previous day. Garak hoped it wouldn’t change Bashir’s compassionate heart.

“Good night, dear doctor.”

Garak slipped out of his quarters and slowly made his way back to his own quarters. He’d only get a few hours of rest before needing to return to his shop. Somehow, that didn’t matter tonight.


End file.
